NOTE: I had intended this to be a one-shot but many people, especially my dearest but extremely pushy friends, had asked me to continue it so I will expand the story slowly. I would like to clarify, however, that although I will be introducing some twists and storylines, I will only be pursuing the Cas arc fully at this time. Sam and Dean's adventures will be dealt with as summaries. Maybe I will revisit them later on, maybe not.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own SUPERNATURAL and would be more than happy for Kripke and Co. to take my stories and use them for S7. If it means Cas is saved, then go for it.
Buckle up and enjoy the ride.
THEN
"Bow down and profess thy love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you," said Castiel coldly, facing Sam, Dean and Bobby, who could only gape at their old friend.
NOW
A flash of light and Dean Winchester suddenly found himself in a restaurant, Mexican music playing merrily in the background. Instead of Castiel's brilliant blue eyes, so different now that he had transformed, Dean looked into the cool brown eyes of Death.
"Come and join me, Dean. They have the best burritos," said the ageless being.
"Where am I?" asked the hunter nervously.
"Somewhere in Texas," came the answer. Dean looked around carefully, half-expecting to see a dozen bodies in the restaurant like the first time he had met Death. There were people, but they were not dead, eating and laughing as if everything was normal. They did seem to be studiously ignoring the small table where Dean and Death were sitting at, however.
Death noticed the direction of the young man's eyes. "You're not invisible. But they are, let's just say, encouraged to ignore us."
Dean nodded hesitantly. This particular Horseman still terrified him, even though he had met the man four times now.
"What do you want?" he asked.
Death cocked an eyebrow at him and took another bite of his burrito, taking his time.
"I warned you about the souls," he said finally. Dean gulped.
"It was Cas, he was working with Crowley the whole time."
"You had a chance to stop him," said Death.
"How?" Dean gave a nervous laugh. "He's ... WAS ... a freaking angel. And he was too pig-headed to listen. He wouldn't give up."
Again, that penetrating don't-bullshit-me look.
"Does that make you the kettle or the pot?" asked Death.
Dean frowned at the veiled insult. Death ignored him, taking out his scythe and putting it on the table. Dean eyed the weapon nervously.
"What are you going to do?"
"Since you have failed in your task, I shall have to clean up your mess," said Death.
Dean's green eyes widened.
"Wait - what? You're gonna kill Cas?"
"I told you I will one day reap God. Your friend has restored order in Heaven, but the souls cannot stay within him," said Death calmly.
The hunter shook his head.
"No, you can't kill Cas," he said, stubbornly.
Death gazed at him shrewdly.
"Who said anything about killing?"
***
Dean found himself outside the house in Kansas, the one where he, Sam and Bobby had gone to in an effort to stop Cas. His brother and Bobby both looked stunned.
"What the hell happened there? How'd we get beamed here?" asked Bobby grouchily. Sam shrugged helplessly. He looked slightly better than when he had joined them.
Dean ignored them and moved towards the house. Strong arms grabbed him.
"What are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed, you idjit?"
Words came tumbling out. "You don't understand. Death got us out; he said he was going to reap Cas."
Sam stared at him and the house. "Death said that? He's going to kill Cas?" Despite stabbing Cas in the back when he had first arrived, there was worry in his voice.
Dean paused. His mind went over what Death said.
"Not exactly. He said he was going to reap God. But not kill." His face was perplexed.
Sam opened his mouth to ask another question, but then a light coming from the basement of the house caught his attention. A rumbling started.
"Get down!" yelled Bobby, huddling next to the wrecked remains of the Impala. Sam pulled Dean, who was still intent on going into the house.
The light grew and the rumbling got worse. From the house, they saw yellow balls of light shoot out, destroying everything in their path and disappear out of sight. Lone among them was a white ball of light that arced over the sky, like a comet.
***
Dean, Sam and Bobby managed to get to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, in one piece; Death being kind enough to give them a ride in his white Rolls Royce. The three of them shared the same seat. It was a tight fit, Sam practically sitting on Bobby's lap; but no one wanted to sit next to the Horseman.
What could they say to the being who knew, to the second, how long you had left on Earth?
Dean was too miserable to care about the two. His mind invariably made a list of all the friends, family and allies he and Sam had lost over the years. Losing Cas was the breaking point.
Once they arrived, Sam and Bobby practically jumped out of the car, thanking Death and fleeing into the house. Dean sighed and moved to join them.
"Stay."
His eyes went to Death, sitting across from him. The door closed on its own volition.
"Why should I? Cas is dead, isn't he? You're going to kill me now because I failed?"
Death looked at Dean, an impassive expression on his face.
"Again, that amusing bravado.
"The problem with you, Dean, is that you do not listen. You could have prevented this if you had listened to your friend. He could have removed the souls himself, without my intervention."
The Horseman sat back, satisfied with the look of horrified realization on the hunter's face.
"I may have reaped God but the natural order is far from being restored. There are more monsters loose in this world. You and your brother will have to clean up this mess you and your friends made."
"Fine, you win. I'm stubborn. Tell me something I don't know," said Dean, half-snarkily, half-scared shitless.
Silence followed as Death considered the man in front of him.
"Your friend no longer had his grace."
Dean's brows knotted at the cryptic remark.
"What do you mean? We saw -"
"You sit here, having lived 33 years, and you think you know everything?"
Dean shut up, staring at the Grim Reaper. Death leaned over and opened the door.
"Remember what I said about the human soul. It is strong and more valuable than you can imagine. You now have many souls you have to save. One, in particular."
***
"What did he tell you?" asked Sam. They were sitting in Bobby's library, Sam holding a beer.
"Just that we have to fix this mess. Said it was our fault." Dean eyed the bottle of beer in Sam's hand. "You sure you should be drinking that? The great wall of Sam just fell."
Sam gave a wry smile. "I'm OK. I don't know how but when we got out ..." He took a deep breath.
Dean narrowed his eyes. "Did Death do something? He put up your wall again?"
Sam frowned, mulling the question. "No, I don't think so. I still remember ... Maybe Cas fixed me after all."
"Cas? What did he do?"
"Well, you were gone for a bit."
"Did you bow?"
Sam scoffed at first, then admitted embarrassedly. "Well, kinda. But when you disappeared, Cas suddenly said he didn't have much time and touched me on the head.
"And it was Cas, Dean. I can tell. He got us out," he added.
"It was Death."
"No, Death got you out. Cas got me and Bobby."
Dean scowled.
"What else did Death say? Did he kill Cas?" reminded Sam.
His brother sighed. "I have no idea. He said Cas no longer had his grace. But he got rid of the souls from Cas and monsters are now walking around because of it."
"Did he say what kind?"
"Godzilla?" Dean smirked, while Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh, and we have to save one soul, whatever that means."
"Godzilla may be right," announced Bobby, carrying a heavy book. The name Lovecraft was on the cover.
"Some of the monsters in Purgatory ain't pretty," he added, laying the book out on the table. The boys huddled around it.
"Cthulhu? What kind of name is that?" asked Dean. "Sounds like something you find in a septic tank."
Sam stared at his brother. "What does that even mean?"
"Well, you know ... in the morning, sometimes you're surprised ... Never mind," said Dean harshly.
"You two idjits done?" growled Bobby.
Dean shifted his focus to his adopted father. "Sam said Cas got you and him out. That true, Bobby?"
Bobby made a face, hedging. Dean peered at him, not breaking eye contact.
"Oh all right, he did. That featherbrain may not be so bad after all."
"You forgive him for killing your girlfriend?"
"Well ... Ellie wasn't very nice, to tell you the truth. She was the one who killed Lovecraft and all the dinner guests," admitted Bobby, a bit shamefully.
"What?" exclaimed Sam. "You never told us that."
"What's wrong, Bobby? She that good in bed?" asked Dean snidely.
Bobby glared at the boys. "Oh, quit judging me. Last I checked you weren't exactly Dr. Phil to the ex-God's Oprah."
Dean looked away while Sam shuffled his feet. Bobby smiled grimly and went back to the book.
He pointed to the illustration of Cthulhu. "If you thought Cas as God was scary, he's not as scary as this guy here. And there are lots more like him."
"My, my. Am I intruding on a precious moment?" came Crowley's voice. The demon had materialized in the kitchen.
Bobby didn't even blink. He just grabbed his shotgun and shot the demon full of rock salt.
"Is that how you greet old friends?" said Crowley, brushing off the salt on his suit.
Sam grabbed Ruby's knife and lunged at him. Crowley reappeared behind Sam.
"Missed," he said.
"Tell me why we shouldn't gank you right now, you piece of crap," growled Dean. Sam glared at the demon.
"Because you need me. And I need something from you. I thought we could work something out," said Crowley.
"Whatever you're selling, we ain't buying," said Dean.
Crowley smiled lazily. "Are you sure? It's a doozy."
"Look, we're not gonna do this again. You managed to get Cas, you got us working for you and we're not gonna do it again!"
"Ah, brain's working again, I see. And here I thought you two only had your looks." The demon padded around the study, running his finger on a bookcase and looking at the dust disapprovingly.
"Feeling guilty, are we? Sad that our feathery friend lost his way and you didn't help him? Well, boo hoo."
Dean scowled. "What do you want, Crowley?"
"I want Cas."
The hunter turned away from the demon. "Cas is dead."
"Noooo ... don't think so."
Sam eyes widened with surprise. "What do you mean?" Bobby made a face.
"See, the nice thing about being a demon is that we can sniff a soul a mile away," said Crowley.
"Cut the monologue, Hamlet. What is it?" said Dean, his voice hard.
"A hunter who reads Shakespeare. Will wonders never cease."
Dean raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed.
"Your precious Cas isn't gone. He's around. Lost a few pounds, give or take a million, and gained something else," said Crowley.
Sam frowned. "You mean ..."
The King of Hell beamed at him. "At least one of you went to college."
The three remained silent, looking at the demon inquiringly. Crowley rolled his eyes.
"Bloody hell. Do I have to spell out everything?
"Our sweet little angel gained a soul when Death did his liposuction. And I want it."
***
Blue eyes opened wide, confused. Puffy, white clouds, set against the forget-me-not sky met his gaze.
Groaning, the man sat up. He winced, realizing he hurt all over. He put his hand to his mouth; it was covered with blood.
Images of a bright light, of men and a woman, of blood, of teary green eyes pleading with him, flashed across his mind.
Looking around, he took stock of his surroundings. He was in the desert; not exactly, he was in a desert that bordered a town. He could some buildings nearby and a few cars on the road.
Getting to his feet shakily, he walked towards the nearest building.
A gasp and a chuckle startled him. Turning around, he saw two women, each atop a horse, staring at him. One of them, a redhead, had her hand to her mouth, while the other one, a brunette, was trying hard not to laugh. She had green eyes.
The green eyes quickly turned from humor to concern when she saw the confusion in his. Getting off her horse, she walked up to him, keeping her eyes on his face.
"You OK, mister?"
The man frowned. He wasn't sure what to say.
The brunette turned to her friend and made a gesture. The redhead sighed and took a blanket out of a bag she had on her horse. She threw it over to the brunette.
Unfolding the blanket, the brunette wrapped it around the man. Only then he realized he was naked. Embarrassment filled him, which surprised him.
"Thank you," he said haltingly.
"Don't mention it," she said, gazing at him curiously. "You're not from around here, are you?"
"No."
"Thought so. I'd remember those baby blues." She smiled.
"Noreen," said the redhead warningly. The brunette, Noreen, turned to look at her friend. She gestured Noreen over.
"What?" asked Noreen exasperatedly, once she was close to her friend.
"You don't know this guy. He could be a serial killer."
Noreen rolled her eyes and looked at the strange, naked man.
"Are you a serial killer?" she asked. Her friend gasped and glared at Noreen.
The man mulled the question. "I don't think so."
Unbidden, he saw images of blood and the feel of it on his hands as he pressed his fingers into a man's eyes while simultaneously squeezing his head. The man was wearing a sheriff's uniform. His eyes went guiltily to Noreen and her friend, but they were too busy arguing in whispers to watch him.
He cleared his throat. The women turned to him.
"Thank you for your help, but I think I can take it from here."
Noreen rushed over. "Don't be silly. You're obviously hurt. Liz," she glared at the other woman, "is just being cautious.
"I have my car nearby. Is there somewhere I can drop you off?"
The man shook his head. Noreen's eyes studied him.
"What's your name?" she asked suddenly.
The man frowned. "I'm not sure."